morning rays, hairspray queens
by orpheus-under-starlight
Summary: Honesty does not come naturally between them.


**morning rays, hairspray queens**

Honesty does not come naturally between them.

* * *

Neku knows he's here.

She knows he's here and she's ignoring him.

"It's not you," she says abruptly, as if she can sense the turn of his thoughts, not as heedless of the way he stills as she'd like to be. He's sitting on her bed and the wispy sparks of his power that she can sense are giving her a headache—which isn't good, because she's got to study. That she hasn't said a single word to him up until this moment is kind of beside the point. "It's this class. College algebra. I've got to pass it."

Joshua hums with that eerie ethereal quality she's started to hear every time he speaks. "Math isn't _that_ difficult."

"Sorry, Captain Craptacular, but we can't all be gods. Or Grim Heapers. I never wanna be like that guy." Neku shakes her head. She's lost her train of thought; the air conditioning isn't exactly enough in the height of summer, and sweat is tracing down her spine the same way Joshua's eyes are.

Well, not quite.

Joshua's eyes are more burning a hole in the exposed skin of her neck and her arms than anything. Knowing what little she truly does of Shibuya's Composer—which is still a hell of a lot more than most anyone but Mr. H—her guess is that he's tired of her attention to petty mortal concerns, and because he's deigned to show up, she ought to be paying attention to him. Especially now that she's broken her silence. The longer she lets this go on, the more likely it is that he'll pull some inhumane shit to get and keep her attention, and she knows he's probably not beyond shooting her again the moment he has need of her.

Yeah, she's read the reports. Maybe she lied to Mr. H about it, but shockingly enough, she can keep a secret.

Whatever her bruised feelings about being so totally used by people she trusts might be, Mr. H doesn't deserve to have the cat let out of the bag by someone he'd counted on to be a good friend. Friend? Maybe not exactly. Neku isn't sure if Angels have friends; she's closer to a mentee, and he a mentor, but it's a friendship of sorts, anyways—he'd even let her see him while he was tagging a mural the other day, and he'd let her join in, showing her tips and tricks and laughing as the free, chaotic music of Shibuya flowed around them and coalesced into his murals.

At any rate... Mr. H doesn't know. And Joshua doesn't know. Which means neither of them know she knows exactly what went down and why, and she also knows something they _can't_ know: at some point, soon, Shinjuku is going to be Erased in an Inversion, and its lone survivor will be a girl carrying Shiki's plushie with her.

_What the hell?_ Neku cries to herself, not for the first time, head hitting her desk with a hearty thunk. It doesn't do anything for the headache, but it makes her feel a little better. _Who is that girl? What does she want from me? How many times am I going to get shot by someone and how many times will I have to play the Game? I just want to be left alone!_

But if that were entirely true, she wouldn't have kept extending her invitations to Joshua. She probably would've moved out of Shibuya, in fact. Maybe even out of Tokyo—or possibly Japan—entirely. Sadly, her careful hypothesis (based solely on her knowledge of Shinjuku's UG existing, and also _not_ existing at some point in the dubious future) is that every single populated area has a Game running, and since everyone from the smallest Sprog Noise to the Neoclassical Drake to random Reapers to the Grim Heaper to all of Joshua's cronies to Mr. H and, yes, even to Joshua himself have all wanted to fight her, she has a sneaking suspicion that she's... special. Somehow.

The more she learns about the Game after the fact, the more she realizes not only did she not have any idea what the hell was going on during those three weeks, she'd had so little idea as to be a completely malleable lump of... clay, she decides. _Not _a spicy tuna roll, damn it. (If she still holds a grudge against the Prince, well, he did apologize for calling her nose knobby. But how the hell did he get her phone number and why does he keep asking her about pins?)

All that to say she'll probably never escape this mess entirely. She's got the advantage of surprise on her side for now, just in case anything happens, but once that's gone...

"It's just quadratic equations, Neku, honestly."

Neku jumps at the nearness of his voice, which has the side effect of the top of her skull knocking into the bottom of Joshua's jaw. It's painful for the both of them. She crosses her arms and doesn't apologize.

"Neku," he whines. "You've ruined me. I'll have a bruise forever."

"I can give you more if you would like," she threatens, but he doesn't move from putting both his hands on either side of the desk and looming over her. It's weird. If he's trying to intimidate her, it's not working.

It takes a moment, but she realizes he's scanning her review packet. "Yes, not very difficult at all. You simply need to plug the numbers in and solve for them."

_No, really? _she thinks. She's very tempted to thump his jaw on purpose this time. "Yeah, that's the difficult part," she deadpans.

"I see. In that case, I'll help." He pulls a chair out of nowhere—she knows better than to ask—and scoots it essentially flush with hers, smug smirk planted firmly on his face. Josh only has a few expressions for someone as emotional as he is beneath. What she's looking at right now, the slightly lowered head and the sly arch of his brows, is the _I-have-a-Neku-to-taunt_ face. She's not sure whether this face or the complete lack of identifiable emotion she'd witnessed in the moment before he shot her a second time scares her more. "Try this one, here. I have to see what you're doing in order to correct the errors."

Neku sighs and lets her head flop back down on the desk. "Or I could take a break."

One long finger jabs her in the side.

"Ouch! Jeez, man," she says, holding her side with a wince. "I'm not giving up. I've been working on this for three hours—I just realized it might be a good idea to take my eyes off it for a second. A second!"

"And I'm sure that has nothing to do with begging for my attention for months and not wanting to give me yours when I finally have a free moment. Really, Neku. I have a job, you know."

She gapes at him. Anything she might've said gets swallowed up in the tidal wave of hurt and anger that comes crashing into her; she hadn't meant it the way he thinks she does, she just hadn't known what to say when he'd gotten here. And she _isn't _good at math.

Joshua watches her for a long, unsmiling moment. He looks away. "...I'm kidding, of course."

"No you're not," she says. Anger is winning over hurt—it's always easier to be angry than it is to be sad—and only the knowledge that he'd just as soon be angry too keeps her from going right for him. _I trust you. I can't forgive you yet, but I trust you. Trust your partner. The world ends with you. _"You meant that."

"Am I wrong?" he challenges with a deceptively light voice.

Neku breathes in. Then out. "Yeah. You are."

"Then explain, Neku. It's a rare day when _I'm_ the one reading things wrong." There's a fair dose of _I'm never wrong, and I'm about to rip apart your argument in front of you_ in there, but he's actually giving her something to work with. Part of her wonders if he's feeling okay.

She sits back and rests her ankle on her knee, bouncing it, trying to gather the focus she needs to lend her words precision. "I didn't... expect to see you again. After everything. I don't exactly know how these things work. So I thought—" _like last time—_ "that I had to say goodbye. Permanently. You also showed up again while I was in the shower and got me in trouble with my mother. The _shower,_ Josh. A _little _weird." She holds her index finger and her thumb milimeters apart then lets her hand drop onto her lap, looking at the ceiling and not at him. "...I'm doing my best with the chance you gave me. I can't forget that. You just... you..."

"I...?" Joshua presses, voice soft. She knows better than to think it's borne of vulnerability.

_You tore my world down and rearranged its fragments into something I'd never known the color or the shape of before. You're a god, but you felt the same things I did. You told me about times long gone and people long dead. You killed me twice and I know you'd do it again. You made me your proxy—you _picked_ me—and now I have to live with what that means. You've lied to me more times than I can count and somehow I still trust you. The week I spent with you was when I really started to let go of what I did to my friend._

_You're a god and you'll live far longer than I ever will and a part of me... doesn't like that very much._

_What are you going to do when you're alone again?_

Neku's bouncing stops. _This is _not _the time to have that kind of realization,_ she tells herself sternly. Besides, she already knew she still cared. "...I wanted to have the right words to say something. But I guess I forgot. I always choke on the spot."

Joshua is silent. Then: "_Rhyming?_ Really?"

"I didn't _mean_ to," she says, exasperated.

"Of course not, dear. Next you'll say you're a poet and you didn't know it." His giggle is strained, but he's trying to regain normalcy. Probably for the best. Neither of them are great at... feelings. "Now, I'll admit to poor timing, but your mother? That was all you. I didn't know your voice could get that high-pitched."

"It's somehow _my _fault that _you_ appearing in _my_ shower made me scream?" Not for the first time, she wonders what kind of trollish logic he operates on—

He's nodding. "Yes. I'm so glad you're finally starting to understand how these things work, partner."

"Just—which equation did you want me to try again?"


End file.
